The Ghost of Christmas Past - I apparently forgot to post this back when I wrote it

It is the holiday season and I am trying to get into the "spirit."  I had Cody drag all the Christmas boxes out of the storage unit for me and load/unload them into the car.  They are now sitting in a huge wall/pile in my sitting area.  I had planned to decorate this weekend only work got in the way.  Being on call = not fun.  Being on call = not being able to finish projects you had planned.  Therefore, my laundry monster is still as tall as me and growling to be put away.  I was able to do laundry but I didn't feel like taking the time to fold after it came out because I was sleep deprived and being lazy.  I plan on taking a few days off this week while the boys are at school to kick the house's ass.  I am going to clean it like there is no tomorrow.  It is time to mop and glo again.  I love how shiny the floors will be.  It will reflect the lights of the artificial tree that I am using this year and I won't have to worry about picking up any pine needles.  Gotta love the fake stuff (funny for a girl who spent so much time on a Christmas tree farm while growing up).

My theme this year for Christmas is "I finally have a mantle!!!"  I am really going to bank on that since I haven't had a mantle since....hmmmmm...forever.  Wait, I guess we did technically have one but it was more of a ledge behind the wood stove in the trailer that we live in for 18 months while building our house.  That was a Christmas to remember.  It is also the Christmas we compare all of the Christmas' against.  That was the year that our family of four was living oh-so-not-comfortably in a 10' x 50' 1963 trailer.  The house was so small we didn't even have room for a tree.  Not even a little one.  So we had a wreath.  We all decorated little plastic ornaments from the dollar store and hung them on the wreath alongside the ornaments the boys made at school that year.  We put lights on the wreath and all of the presents were piled on a side table under the wreath.  All the house-hold items we received that year were put into storage until we moved into the new house as we had no room for them in the tin can we called home.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not putting it down, it was a house to live in cheaply it just wasn't ideal.  If we had known it was going to take that long, it would never have transpired the way it did.  The oven was so small we had a turkey breast.  Turkey wouldn't even fit in the oven.

Cody's bedroom was the little 7'x11' pop-out add-on/entry way into the house.  It had no insulation.  So during the day he would play in there and then sleep on the couch inside at night.  We had two dressers stacked on top of each other to hold our clothes.  The cars we owned were more expensive than the house and you know what it was ok.  Looking back it makes me thankful for what we have now.  It also makes me happy that I have room to put up so many decorations that it is going to look like Christmas barfed all over the house.  I can't wait!!!!

Odd Moments in Assisted Living

Working for the last few months in assisted living has really provided me with insight into the aging process and I have gained a deeper compassion for people.  Especially for the caregivers that I work with on a daily basis.  I have needed to fill in on the floor a few times when staff hasn't shown up for a shift.  That was really difficult for me the first time I did it.  I have no experience in it whatsoever!  It opened my eyes to what the caregivers provide to others on a regular basis.  These amazing people help others with basic tasks that I take for granted such as putting on my socks and shoes and even using the restroom alone.  I am in awe of the kindness and caring that caregivers need to exhibit.  I am also in awe of the grace that they must exhibit continually.  

Happy moments occur regularly.  We were playing bean bag toss and clapping when someone scored 100 points.  Another women who has dementia and was sitting nearby, started giggling and shouted out "Oh Delicious!"  If I ever get dementia, I hope I am as happy as her.  She is usually smiling and laughing.  Maybe she doesn't always know what is going on but at least she is happy.  That is what I want too.  

I have gotten used to being asked my name often.  I always wear my name tag and remind people it is ok for them to ask me and if they can't remember just look at the name tag.  It is my job to remember their names but they don't need to remember mine.  I will even answer to "Hey you."  I suppose that is because I grew up in a large family so not being called by name is no big deal.

Today I took a group of residents out to lunch at the VFW for Veteran's Day.  It was so nice to get to know them outside of my regular job role.  I made a comment about working and one of the residents looked right at me and said "Where do you work?"  The other residents had a laugh when I responded with "Where you live.  I work at your house."  

One day I was helping an older gentleman in the restroom.  While I was assisting him on the toilet he asked me if I was married.  That really surprised me as toilet conversation.  Another time I was walking through the hallway and saying "hello" to residents that I passed.  One woman yelled out in a booming voice "Boy, she sure has a big butt!"  What do you say to that?  You can't exactly turn around and say something in response.  So you suck it up even though it would have been nice to say "You wet your pants."   

Even with my experience in government work nothing could have prepared me for the daily interactions I experience with residents.  I am used to defusing anger and tempers that involve property rights.  That is a hard thing to do.  Making people happy is nothing like that.  It is rather rewarding.  I go to work smiling and go home smiling (although sometimes I may be muttering a retort under my breath).

This is the first drawing I created using my new Bamboo tablet and pen.  Maybe my drawings are a bit crude but it is so much faster than drawing with the mouse tracking pad on my laptop.

Totally Not Work Related At All

Last month we took a family trip to Silverwood. I honestly thought it would be fun. From what I remember of past experiences, I love rollercoasters. Apparently, the past is not accurate. I almost wet myself a number of times, came damn near a panic attack and actually imagined that I was going to die. Not the fun I had in mind.

I hate heights. I will start with that. They don't tend to bother me if I am strapped and buckled securely. That would be the biggest issue off the bat. A number of times I felt as if I was about to fly out of my harness and flail through the air to my certain death. Flying through the air is one of my biggest fears. People have asked me “Wouldn't it be nice to be a bird and fly over the earth and see everything. Feeling so free....” “Um, no. If you are flying you might fall.”

I guess the fear of falling is the biggest aspect for me. In one of my reoccurring nightmares I start jumping on a trampoline. I start going higher and higher with every bounce. Then I am bouncing higher than the roof. Then higher than the trees. Then higher than all the buildings. Then high as the airplanes. The whole time I have that creepy, nasty feeling in your stomach like when you drive at high speed over a bump in the road and it launches you in the air. So there I am bouncing. Bouncing and flailing my arms to be precise. Every bounce is harder and there is no end in sight. Just when I think I will land on the ground again, my feet become like super bouncy feet and I continue to bounce like I am at zero-gravity on the moon. Get my point. Not fun. It is about falling. I hate it. I guess I am a control freak.

So anyway, stupid Nikki, goes on the panic plunge first. I daringly strap myself into a harness in a seat that faces outwards and raises up a tall cell-tower looking thingy. It goes slowly up. I'm feeling ok. I'm looking around. Then I realize how high I am. Then my nieces (who are 8 and 9 and bravely went with me) start to whimper. I say “Wow, look at the parking lot and all the cars. They look so small.” Then I start panicking on the inside. “Christ almighty! Why did I do this?!?! I want off only I can't get off because we are still moving. Oh Dear God. Mother Mary of God!!!” We are still going upwards. I am getting sick. There is a noise. “What the hell was that noise?????!?!?! Aaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!! “ We are shooting, free-falling you might say at over 60 miles an hour to the ground. Plummeting to my death, just like I envision in my nightmare. I shut my eyes. I feel myself raise out of my seat but I am still propelling down-ward. Closing my eyes, not the smartest thing to do at that point. I open my eyes and it is not as scary. Being in the dark and falling is worse. I am so freaked out that my mouth can only open. No sound escapes. I think my heart may have stopped and I possibly pee'd my pants. Then click. We are back on the ground. I got off and wandered around like a zombie for a few minutes.

Before I had regained my composure I was whisked off to the roller coaster called “After Shock.” It would be more aptly named “Anxiety Attack.” I am so traumatized I can't explain it and give you the full picture and provide enough clarity to give the experience any justice. I think I blacked it out. I tend to do that in situations where I almost die. It helps me go forward by not remembering life altering events. Short story: Harnessed in with your legs dangling. Shooting backwards and forwards, upside down and this way and that and then stopping at a 180 degree angle to where I had once stood. Twice in this odd angle. Only it is over a hundred feet in the air and I was looking straight down at the ground with nothing in front of me except for a brightly colored foam shoulder harness and the other time, I was on my back, knowing I was at a direct angle from the ground. Never again. My friend's 11 year old had a panic attack and began hyperventilating. I would have but I secretly died for awhile so it wasn't so bad for me once I got off. The woman behind was crying before it even started. That didn't help matters at all.

Finally, I was bamboozled onto the Timber of Terror. Overall, not so bad. My 9 year was tucked securely in the cart behind us. My husband and I not so much. This cart is about 3 feet wide with a divider in the middle. Neither of us fit very well into our designated space. It was like trying to sit on a piece of toast and not overlap onto the crust. Not gonna happen. I would have fit better into the seat in the front of a shopping cart. My husband's extremely broad shoulders were encroaching into my small space as well and I couldn't hold onto the bar as his arms were there. The ride is made of wood so it creaked. Which is a good thing because it hid the sounds of the farts that were emitting with every bounce of the frickin' ride. Honestly, that comes after eating amusement park food and already having an upset stomach from previous panic attacks. Again, not fun. As we started heading up the first “ramp” my husband says to my son (who was starting to have a mini-freak out) “Put your hands in the air like this.” So my husband and I put our hands in the air to show what good sports we are. We are setting an example for our son to have fun. Don't be scared. This is fun. We paid for it. WTF! We round that first hump and stare at an 85 foot straight drop in seats we barely fit into. Our arms dropped so fast as we raced to hold onto the panic bar like teenagers running out of a kegger that is being busted. Trying to hold on for dear life was scarier than being on the ride. Slipping and sliding out of your designated area while on a roller coaster is about as much fun as running from a train.

My younger son is already planning our next trip back. Little does he know it won't be with me. Next “fun” vacation, we are going to do something that I know I like. We are going to a Lyle Lovett concert in a park and then eating at a fondue restaurant and watching a Broadway show. Now that is fun.

Week 1: Life is Good

Losing my job: Sucked.

Being unemployed for 6 months:  Worth it

This week I began my gainful employment with a company who shall remain unnamed unless you know me personally and then I will whisper it to you because I prefer not to say on the internet--now people actually search the web to see what their employees do/say/print/post/blah blah.  Must maintain mysteriousness.  So anyway, my new job = awesome.  I love it so far!!!!!!!  The best part = smiles.  I get to smile often.  I am expected to smile at people.  People smile at me.  Life is good.  Flowers and smiling are my two favorite things.  The only way to up this one is by working in a smiling flower shop.  Not gonna happen due to my stupid allergies.

I am still keeping an eye on job openings.  There are some promising ones in the planning field but I would rather be run over by a truck with a steamroller following behind it than be a planning director.  I now realize how  unfun planning can be.  The best thing that happened to me in a long time was being laid off.  I have my garden, a clean organized house, read books, went camping, swimming, shopping, walking but no singing because that requires karaoke and karaoke requires really being liquored up....

This weeks scam job:  One dorky get rich quick ad caught my eye so I went to it.  I clicked on it because the picture for it was a dumb looking dipwad with two thumbs up and he was super excited.  Upon further examination, I am confident he was also high on cocaine as no one can be that happy without illegal drugs or really heavy anti-despressants.... Since it is a scam, it must be illegal.  When I looked at the idiot's picture I drew a parallel to the Fonz which I jotted down on the screen shot.  After that....I realized it was more reminiscent of Steve-o's tattoo of himself.   Definitely not a way to make money in my book.  Looking/acting like a poser usual ends up badly....

The Fonz is cool

Steve-o's dumb-o tattoo
He is still cooler than the dorky stock investment guy....